


Blood In The Cut

by DandelionSea



Category: Swapfell (Fandom), Underswap (Fandom), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angst, Crying, Dark Comedy??, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Friendship, Gen, Inner dialoge, Inspired by that one episode of bojack horseman, Lady_Kit, Panic Attacks, The one that loops the first four bars of 'blood in the cut' for the first 5 gd minutes, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, vent fic, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionSea/pseuds/DandelionSea
Summary: "Stupid piece of shit""You're a real stupid piece of shit"Stretch has depression.  Blue wants him to get a job.  A trip to the mall with Slim is in order.





	Blood In The Cut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Kit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/gifts).



> Hey guys, I promise to stop gifting works to people as soon as I stop being inspired by the awesome community here XD.
> 
> So last night I stayed up all night with depression binging Bojack Horseman on netflix and reading a _lot_ of [Lady_Kit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/works). Somehow the combination sparked me into writing this little fic, and since I finished it I thought I might as well post it. I'm using the names "Slim" and "Razz" here because I almost see them as separate characters from my head cannon of "Vermilion" and "Cringe" - they act more like Kit's version of those characters, which I love, with "Slim" being far more closed off and quiet than "Vermilion"
> 
> So, without further ado, please enjoy the product of nine consecutive hours of sleep-deprived self torturing.
> 
> [Background Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2WcOdz96ko)

_stupid piece of shit…_

_you’re a real stupid piece of shit._

Stretch can hear his brother calling his name from downstairs, chanting up a chorus of ‘time to get up’s and ‘breakfast’s ready.’ Stretch can barely open an eye, sighing as he sees the immaculate ceiling above him. It’s incredible how well his brother cleans - yesterday Blue must have finally got sick of waiting for Stretch to get his lazy ass up and un-garbage his room, because there isn’t a sock out of place now.

_stupid piece of shit. your brother is too good for a piece of shit like you. you made him take time out of his day just to clean up after you. can’t even pick up a sock…_

Stretch groans as he throws a pillow over his head, curling back up on himself. Nope. He’s not ready to face the day yet - even though the light streaming through his window tells him it’s probably almost noon. Heh. If he could hold a job for more than three days he’d be fired by now. Or maybe that thought is repetitive…

Either way, Blue’s voice is still bellowing up the stairs. “Paaaaapy~ I’m giving you ten more minutes before I’m gonna come up there and get you~”

Stretch huffs. He does _not_ want to be carried down the stairs again; he hates have the door suddenly thrown open on him and just yanked out of bed. It’s so annoying, and yet Blue does it every single time Stretch wants to sleep in.

_he’s just doing that because he loves you, asshole. he does all this shit for you, the least you can do is not give him crap when he actually gives a damn to get you out of bed._

Stretch reluctantly rolls himself out of bed, dragging himself across the floor and to the closet to find a hoodie to throw over his nightshirt that he also wears as a dayshirt. No, wait - is this it his dayshirt he wears as a night shirt? Eh, either way, it’s clothes. The hoodie is followed by a pair of loose sweatpants, a pair of mismatched socks and slip-on sandals. He takes a look at himself in the mirror. He looks like shit.

_good._

He closes the closet door and stumbles out into the hallway, only realizing how hungover he is when he crosses out on to the stairs. Woah… he never realized just how high up the second floor is in this house. He feels wobbly. How much did he have to drink last night? Couldn’t have been more than a few beers at Muffets… then maybe a shot at Grillby’s… wait, was Fellby’s open last night?

“Moooooorning~”

_Ouch. That was loud._

_don’t think that about your brother he’s the only one that bothers to love you._

“heh, hey blue,” Stretch says casually, attempting to hide his flinch with a wave. He looks around the living room. It seems that everyone’s been up for a while, even Sans is sitting on the couch comfortably playing some kind of board game with his brother.

_you slept in again, idiot. think about all the quality time you just missed with your family. there’s some time you’ll never get back - just like the rest of your stupid life, why don’t you just die already?_

_shut up don’t feel sorry for yourself.  they probably were better off without you down here to fuck everything up like you always do._

Stretch shakes his head, trying to focus on the words coming out of Blue’s mouth, but realizes that he has missed the most important part of the dialogue at the beginning and now can’t follow anything that his brother is talking about.

_shit, what an asshole - too busy talking to yourself to listen to your own brother. you must be crazy. probably some rare mental disorder with no cure._

“i... uh…” Stretch says, cutting off his brother. He looks around.

_shhhit everyone is staring at you - they probably think you’re drunk._

_you_ are _drunk._

_shut up - focus. gotta say something. stop being such a drunk piece of shit and say something idiot!_

“...what’d you say?” Stretch finally works out. It sounds pretty pathetic, even to him. Blue frowns, looking mildly upset and disappointed by that response.

_nice going, moron. way to look like a jackass as always._

“Pappy… Were You Drinking Last Night?”

“uh…” Stretch just stands there.

_lie! if you tell him the truth he’ll hate you and say hurtful things like “i’m disappointed” or “you can do better”. besides, the truth is sad - you don’t need to make your brother any sadder than he is._

_but if he catches you lying then he’ll be even more upset and everyone will you what a huge piece of shit you are. they_ should _know, they have the right to know. you’re such a piece of shit._

“uh…”

“Oh Please,” Edge says, looking up from the paper at the kitchen table. “Of Course He’s Been Drinking - What _Else_ Would A Piece Of Shit Like Him Do All Day?” His scowls deepens as he catches sight of Stretch’s shirt. “...And Night…”

_see, he gets it._

Blue’s frown deepens and Stretch feels shame crawl up his back. He expects to be yelled at, but instead Blue just sighs, going back to the kitchen to get the breakfast spaghetti he and Papyrus prepared this morning. Stretch follows, not really knowing what else to do with himself. The leftovers are in the fridge, covered in plastic wrap with little drops of condensation clinging to the sheet.

“Pappy, You Know I’m Not Mad...”

 _oh here we go. you get this speech every time yet_ somehow _you never learn how to not be such a disappointment. no wonder everyone hates you. god look at him, look at how_ sad _your brother is because of you. if you weren’t such a failure then maybe you wouldn’t make him so miserable all the time. think about how much happier he’d be if you weren’t here._

 _oh shit you’ve done it again, haven’t you. fuck he said something and now he’s looking at you with those big stupid eyes. his eyes are_ not _stupid how dare you think that. shit he asked you something just now didn’t he.  what does he want now??_

“Pappy! Are You Even Listening To Me!?” Blue says, raising his voice just a little. He looks a strange combination of worried and upset.

“yeah, bro, I am, I just… uh…” Stretch tapers off, running a hand down the back of his skull. “maybe you can run that _pasta_ me again? i didn’t spage-ketch whatcha said.”

_wow. that was weak, even for you._

Edge growls from the table.

“He Said,” Edge supplies shortly. “That You Need To Get Off Your Ass And Do Something With Your Life So You Don’t Spend The Entire Morning Sleeping Off A Hangover.” Stretch flinches at the sarcastic tone.

“That Is Not What I Said,” Blue snaps back, looking frustrated with Edge

“I’m Paraphrasing.”

“shouldn’t you be at work, edgelord?” Stretch asks, hands in his pockets. God he wants a cigarette. _no, you don’t, garbage heap - you’re quitting, remember??_ “saturdays are, like, your busy day, right?”

Edge outright laughs. “Seriously? Today’s Sunday, Idiot.”

_woah - that’s like, and entire day you’re missing. god you look like an idiot right now._

“...oh,” Is all that Stretch replies to that, watching as Blue puts his pasta into the microwave and heats it up. Stretch goes to the fridge and finds the orange juice, drinking straight from the carton since there is only a little left - eight people go through quite a bit of orange juice in the mornings.

Blue sighs. “Brother, Since I Assume Your Job Hunt Didn’t Go Well Yesterday-”

_oh riiiight, that’s what you were doing, and after one botched interview you walked your ass right to the bar and drank until midnight - no wonder no one will hire you. shit - focus, idiot, brother is talking._

“- Would Be Good For You. So Because Today Is Also A Free Day For Most Of Us- Pappy, Are Zoned Out Again??” Blue asks, sounding exasperated.

“yeah yeah, i am - this would be good for me, today is free,” Stretch says, starting to sweat under his brother’s scrutinous gaze. “i... uh… guess that you are gonna ask me to go lookin’ for a job again today??”

“Correct,” Blue says, arms crossed. His eyes soften when he realizes that Stretch won’t meet his eyes. “I Know It Has Been Hard On You Since We Came To The Surface, But I Do Think It Would Be Good For You To Find Something To Do. It Isn’t Good For You To Spend The Entire Day In Your Room Like That.”

“yeah, i know… i do want a job…” Stretch says, grabbing the microwave door before it can beep.

_Yes. Double zeros. Highscore._

_god, what kind of pathetic asshole gets excited over that? stupid piece of shit._

“Good!” Blue says. “That Is Why I Have Decided That Slim Will Partner Up With You.”

Stretch practically chokes on his bite of spaghetti, having to rush to the sink to get a drink of water so he doesn’t have a coughing fit in the kitchen.

_shit. why him? he’s so fucking creepy._

_he’s not creepy, he’s damaged. the universe he came from was awful and he had a very rough time, you stupid piece of shit. feel less sorry for yourself - he’s the one who had a hard life. what have you had to do, your brother took care of you most of your life. what does he have; nothin’. entitled piece of shit._

“He Is Going To The Mall Today To Work Out And While He Is There I Want You To Put In Applications To Everywhere That’s Hiring.” Blue says, stepping back into the living room to the printer they have set up by the stairs. The little computer station that they share for work and school related activities is open to a word document headed with Stretch’s full name. “I Already Typed Up A Cover Letter And Resume For You, Since I Noticed You Had Trouble Writing One That… Showcased Your Talents.”

 _shit, why’d he have to go and do that? he took time out of_ his _day to fix your resume because you couldn’t think of a single talent you have. of course you couldn’t think of a talent, idiot, you_ have _no talents. what do you think he put on there? ‘can sleep through anything’, ‘sometimes shows up.’_

“thanks bro, i appreciate it,” Stretch lied, taking several copies of the resume. He sits down to look over what his brother put down, and honestly it is miles above what he could come up with. Well formatted, double spaced, good grammar. His brother is good at this sort of thing. No wonder he’s able to keep a job…

Stretch opens his mouth to say something to his brother when he nearly jumps out of the chair. Slim as somehow just _appeared_ next to him. “holy fuck!!!” Stretch yelps as he topples backwards, almost falling right to the ground when Slim’s hand just pops out and grabs the chair as it’s tipping back. “we need to get you a fuckin’ bell.”

“Language!!” He can hear his brother’s chastising voice across the room.

“...” Slim just stares at Stretch with those creepy ass eyes before holding up a set of keys. Huh. He must be ready to go…

“eheheheh, don’t worry, that’s just his way of sayin’ hello,” Red says, walking in the door in his uniform. He must have just gotten back from work - they only have one care between the house of skeletons, so it takes meticulous planning to see who uses it and when; not to mention only Slim and Edge have a license.

_oh right, you were supposed to take that driving exam last week? what happened to that? did you seriously forget this whole time? why did no one remind you??_

_because it isn’t their job, idiot; you should do better! you should_ be _better. your brother probably saw that you missed the date and was like “oh, well, guess my idioit brother fucked it all up again. it’s not like he needs to drive anyway - it’s not like he’s going anywhere in life.”_

_no, he wouldn’t say that - blue doesn’t swear, remember?_

“right,” Stretch says, replying far too late to Red’s retort. He stands up looking at Slim, who is starring at him with expectant eyes. He feels very uncomfortable being scrutinized like this. _he’s probably just taking in all of the shitty things about you, you giant heap of garbage. he’s a good person; even he can clearly see you’re not._

“uh... i need to… change,” Stretch says, motioning to his crusty hoody that he should have washed three weeks ago. Slim just gives a little nod and a shrug, walking over to the couch before sitting down and looking at his phone. He has his earphones in like always, listening to some new pop tune from the surface.

_god he looks so relaxed. how is it that someone so damaged can somehow be more put together than you? look at him - stable job, has his license… what is so fucked up in your life that you can’t be that relaxed._

_annnnd you’re wasting time again. stupid piece of shit, get upstairs and get dressed so your brother won’t have to look at your crummy existence._

Stretch rushes up the stairs to get ready to go out.

* * *

Slim disappears into a music shop almost as soon as they get to the mall - one of the ones with free samples with headphones for shoppers to listen to. Stretch doesn’t see why he bothers - he gets his music from the internet anyways; how do these dying businesses stay open these days??

 _i don’t know, idiot, how do_ you _still not have a job_.

Fair point.

Stretch hits up each store without much direction, just going in to any place that has a “help wanted” sign at the window and asking for an application. In the end he manages to wrack up five or six sheets from different stores in the mall. Each time he is greeted by some friendly, cheery looking teen who is more than happy to help him.

_look at them, smiling and waving - they have their years ahead of them. when did you stop being young? what did you do with your youth, huh? probably drank through the first half of it and became a general disappointment in the next._

_this is why you won’t get a job - these people have their shit together. they smell like hope and dreams and a successful future. what do you smell like - probably failure… and cologne - holy shit did you not shower today??_

Stretch sits down at a picnic table at the food court, utterly exhausted. He lays his head down in his arms, resting over the crapton of applications he now has to fill out. God, how is it that he ever had energy before in his life? He can’t even remember what it was like to want to do things.

_Alright enough moping, dumbass, get your stupid ass up and get to work._

Stretch pulls himself up with all the force he can muster and reaches for his pen…

...whiiiich he doesn’t have.

_nice going, genius._

He sighs, standing up. He can probably buy one from one of those crap stores that sells crap for crappy kids and their crap parents; this mall has at least ten of those.

Fuck he could use a cigarette.

_no, you quit those, remember._

God, but it would just be _so nice_ if he could have one. In his hand. Right now.

_absolutely not. you’re brother hates it, and you’ve already given him enough reason to hate you; all you do is take and hurt him. you are a sinkhole of a person._

Right. He shouldn’t…

But Stretch’s hand rests in the pocket of his jacket against a little box that he happened to grab by habit on his way out, his fingers drumming against the surface of the cheep, thin cardboard as he whines.

_don’t - don’t you fucking do it._

Just one.

_no…_

One won’t hurt.

_oh please, you know that’s a fuckin’ lie._

His fingers tear at the plastic.

_goddamnit._

Stretch stands on the balcony outside, arms resting on the rail as he drags on his ninth cigarette, anxieties drifting away as self-hatred rushes in to fill the void it left. The clouds above him are dark and stormy. The weather looks like it’s about to turn bad.

_you know this is a no smoking area, right? only pieces of shit smoke here – which you are, so it’s perfect for you._

Stretch can easily say he didn’t see the sign - if someone asks him to leave he’ll leave.

_you’re fucking garbage._

He knows… Stretch laughs to himself, feeling a hell of a lot calmer - a few more cigarettes and he might be ready to face the rest of the day. He puts out the end of the cigarette and flicks the butt off the edge of the rail into the woods below.

_huh, maybe you could kill yourself if you jumped off the rail, then you won’t have to do this pointless fucking job search - it looks high enough from up here. or maybe it isn’t? hard to tell with all those trees… would suck if you survived and they stuck your brother with all those hospital bills._

Man, hospitals are fucked up aren’t they? What if it was an accident, and Stretch just happened to fall and hurt himself - the hospital bandages him up, gives him a kiss on the head, and sticks him in crippling debt for the rest of his life. Debt he probably couldn’t pay off due to the injuries he sustained that _sent_ him to the hospital in the first place. That shit’s messed up.

_yeah, besides, killing yourself is stupid, why would you even think about that? blue would be so sad - even though he should be. he’s too good for this world, caring about a shithole like you. you don’t deserve to be missed when you die._

Probably true, Stretch thinks, feeling pretty done with cigarettes by now. The one in his mouth is currently about half way through, but he’s feeling a lot better now and it isn’t like he needs to be smoking this much anyways.

 _oh please, don’t be wasteful - you already started it. you never finish what you start, do you? that’s the problem in your life - that’s what it all boils down to. you go to college, you drop out. you get a job, you quit that job. you get another job and then_ bam _\- you find a way to sabotage it for yourself. maybe if you weren’t such a quitter you would actually be worth something you sack of useless._

_oh, look at that, you smoked the whole cigarette you didn’t even want - fucking addict._

Stretch grunts, stepping on the bud and putting his hood to hid his face, as if that would stop everyone from smelling the cigarettes on him. Shamefully, he returns to his quest to find a pen to fill out the applications. The closest place is some little girls store that sells tiaras and frilly shit. It… isn’t exactly somewhere that Stretch blends in, but he’s honestly too lazy to try to find somewhere else that sells pens.

He slinks inside, ignoring the questioning looks he gets from parents as he makes a beeline through the store for the nicknacks in back. Unfortunately, the store is designed like a maze so Stretch is forced to wander through a lot longer than he would like before he finds a few fuzzy-pink pom-pom pens. They’re a dollar fifty.

 _that’s a fucking rip off - are you seriously going to spend_ money _on these?_

Stretch shrugs.

 _if you hadn’t lost your pen in the_ first _place then you wouldn’t be doing this would you_.

Probably not, Stretch agrees, shoving his free hand forcefully into his pocket as he heads for the checkout. He messes with his lighter.

 _this is pointless - no one is going to hire you. hell, no one really even_ likes _you, you think they’ll want you as an employee?_

Being likable and being an employee are different.

_not really. look around you, jackass. look at that employee - she’s sweet, she’s funny, she’s charming, she’s talking up that man and his daughter no problem. she’s probably likable. she probably has a bunch of friends; her family isn’t disappointed in her. you’d just fuck it all up like you always do._

No, I wouldn’t.

_yes you would. you always do._

That’s not true!

 _don’t make excuses for yourself; you know you’re garbage - everyone knows you’re garbage! the only people in your life who still believe in you are your family, and even they are getting tired of your bullcrap. you’re not gonna get better - you_ can’t _get better! you’re going to be a fuck up and a failure for the rest of your life!_

“no, i won’t!” Stretch hisses, realizing too late that he is speaking out loud. He looks around to see a few people closest to him turn to look, confused at who he could be talking to. Someone who looks suspiciously like the manager eyes him with a cautious and unforgiving glare. Stretch blushes, pulling his hood farther over his face as he goes to pay for the pen.

_stupid piece of shit…_

* * *

Finally, Stretch returns to the food court. He has his pen, he had a few cigarettes, and now he can finally, _finally_ apply for those jobs. It’s been a trying day, but in the end he actually accomplished something. It feels empty, but at least it means this nightmare is almost over.

He sits down at the table from before, looking out the mall window for a moment as he sighs. He wants another cigarette - the ones before sated his need, but now his cravings are back tenfold. He decides that he’s earned one; he’ll take it once as he’s done here.

Now all he has left is to fill out the applications.

…

Shit, where did he put the applications?

Stretch feels his soul speed up, looking in his hoodie pockets, pants pockets, even around the table for the little folded sheets of paper. His fingers go numb and he feels cold as he realizes that they are no longer here; he must have dropped them when he was wondering around the mall.

Stretch lets out a long, shaky breath. Fuck, he can feel tears in his eyes.

_don’t cry, ya big baby. it’s not that big a deal, just get back up and go look for them. or don’t - since you already seem to have made up your mind about being defeated. just sit there like the waste of space you are mope - don’t go try to fix the problem or anything!!_

But Stretch just doesn’t have the energy to stand - he spent all of it wandering around collecting the stupid applications in the first place. And now he has nothing to show for it - an hour and a half wasted on a failed search and a pointless cigarette break; not to mention they have to be back at the house in 30 minutes, giving Stretch _maybe_ 20 to run around and ask all of the places that he has already been to for _another_ application. And wouldn’t _that_ look professional.

Slowly, Stretch pulls himself up and heads to the mall exit empty handed, taking deep breaths to keep the tears out of his eyes. Outside a storm is just starting, rain pouring down. Stretch has an umbrella, it’s just in the car. He sighs and sloshes through the parking lot. Maybe he can get to the car with enough time to catch a cigarette break.

He lifts the pile of unused resumes over his head to keep at least some of himself dry. It’s not like they’re going anywhere but the trash after this...

Slim is already in the car by the time that Stretch has made it across the blacktop, earphones plugged in and eyes closed. Stretch sighs, so much for that cigarette.

Stretch pulls open the car door, the minivans sharp beeping alerts Slim to his arrival. The other pulls out his headphones, staring at Stretch in that inquisitive way he always does. It makes Stretch feel shitty - soaking wet, dirty, smelling like cigarettes… Slims eyes travel to the sopping clumps of resume in Stretch’s hand.

Stretch just smiles sheepishly.

“heh, yeah - guess i just gotta _resume_ my search tomorrow, hehe…” He says, looking forward. Slim just shrugs, starting the car up and slowly backing out.

Stretch takes off his soaked jacket as they head out to the highway and throws it in back on the floorboards. He sighs, looking down and the running ink of what used to be nicely typed cover letters.

 _well, that was a waste of a day. you shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed, then at least you could have been a harmless disappointment instead of wasting everybody’s time. poor slim has to haul your ass around_ again _now - that is if you ever work yourself up to going out to apply for jobs again, you worthless piece of garbage._

Stretch sighs, drumming his fingers on the side of the window. He can practically feel the judgement rolling off of Slim - the way he won’t even look at Stretch, lost in his own thoughts.

 _probably reflecting on how much of a crappy person you are. look at how loyal he is to_ his _brother.  bet he thinks you’re pretty shitty for not doing the_ one thing _your brother asked you to do today when he bends over backwards every day for his._

Stretch can hear the music blaring from Slim’s headphones - it’s a wonder the skeleton hasn’t gone deaf five times over.

 _maybe he can handle it because he grew up with bombings and raids on his house - that is if he_ had _a house back in his universe. you shouldn’t judge him so much when you’re the one who can’t even_ apply _for a job, much less hold one down for more than a few days._

Stretch closes his eyes, once again focusing on just trying to keep himself from breaking down into tears. He doesn’t want to do that here - not with Slim so close. The perceptive skeleton will notice then look at him with those damn inquisitive eyes and make him feel like shit until he tells him everything.

And Slim doesn’t deserve that - he doesn’t need to be poisoned by Stretch’s ranting. He has enough shit going on in his life; he doesn’t need Stretch’s entitled, whiny bullshit to add to his worries.

 _yeah, that’s right - suffer in silence idiot, because_ that’s _healthy. what, you think you’re some kind of martre or something?_

_oh shut up, he doesn’t want to hear it.  he’s not a fucking therapist._

_so what? you’re just gonna talk to yourself like a crazy person??_

_it’s not like you listening to you is helping._

_oh yeah, and what have you accomplished on your own, hot shot? you’re a failure, a real piece of shit - today just proves that any chance of bettering yourself is_ wasted _on you._

_no, you’re wrong._

_really? prove it? what have you done today that is even the least bit productive? you bought an overpriced pen and smoked. is that what you’re gonna do for the rest of your life?_

_i mean… not that specifically…_

_then what, trashbag - what are you gonna do with a piece of crap like you? what is there in you that makes you worth anyone’s time! you should jump out of the car right now - this world has enough garbage in it; it doesn’t need you._

_shut up._

_no really, open the door and jump out - do it! you won’t. you’re too selfish to even get yourself out of everyone else’s life._

_shut. up._

_you’re_ worthless _, papyrus. you’re just a stupid piece of_ garbage.

_s t o p._

Stretch jumps when he feels the car suddenly slow down. For a moment he worries that he was talking to himself aloud again. God only knows what Slim would think of him if he knew that Stretch was hearing voices - this is the kinda shit people get institutionalized for…

And yet when Stretch looks outside the window he sees a greasy fast food restaurant outside the window. Huh…? Slim turns off the car and unbuckles himself, not even looking at Stretch as he speaks. “...i’m hungry.”

Stretch has only heard Slim speak about dozen times, and half of those he isn’t entirely sure what the other said due to his quiet nature. He is almost dumbfounded by the fact that Slim even opened his mouth to say something as simple as that.

“...oh.” Stretch replies, following Slim out of the car. “...i thought you told razz you wouldn’t eat this stuff anymore?”

With the look that Slim gives Stretch after that comment you’d have thought Stretch had just told him to drop dead. He quickly raises his hands. “i won’t tell ‘im…” He clarifies quickly. It’s not like it would be his place to say anything. “...uh, so long as you don’t say anythin’ t’ blue about me smokin’.”

Slim gives a small, rare smile and nods. As if that was ever a worry…

The two of them walk inside and order - Slim giving small signs as to what he wants and Stretch speaking the order to the cashier. Slim orders… a lot. Stretch ends up getting an ice cream just so it isn’t awkward to watch the other skeleton eat about three burgers and two sets of fries. Stretch is starting to see why Razz was concerned about Slim’s eating habits…

Again, not that Stretch can judge.

Stretch finds himself watching Slim again in silence. What is he thinking? Is he thinking about how Stretch failed today - or is that self centered? It sure feels like he is… Stretch wishes he could curl up and hide from all his mistakes, but even then he can’t outrun his own mind.

Slim looks up at Stretch at some point, catching him stare. Stretch’s eyes dart down and he curls up a bit. Great, Slim is _definitely_ judging him.

Of all the skeletons he’s lived with for over a year now, Slim is the one he knows least about. It’s not that he doesn’t like the guy or anything… he just feels odd when he’s around him. Guilty. Like this version of him is the only one he hasn’t damaged yet by his presence. Even Razz has bore witness to one of Stretch’s bad nights.

“...i don’t think i’m gonna be gettin’ any call backs today,” Stretch says lightly, trying to fill the gap in conversation, maybe even explain himself a little. Slim doesn’t even look up from his food. Stretch’s half-smile falls. “i... really was trying to find something; i know it doesn’t look like it, but...” Stretch finds himself saying without meaning to. Maybe it’s because he’s mostly-mute, but Stretch feels somewhat okay telling these things to Slim. “i don’t think i’m ever going to find a job… and i don’t think i really deserve one. it’s… it’s like-” He cuts himself off, to afraid to even speak the last line of what he was about to say. How could he possibly admit to anyone these thoughts he’s had? They’re _wrong_ and unnatural.

The two of them sit in silence until Slim stands to throw away his tray, then the two return to the car. The rain has at least let up some now, rays of intense, late-afternoon sun peaking through the clouds. Slim gets into the car, putting his hands on the wheel before speaking his third word of the day.

“... sorry.”

Stretch raises a brow, not entirely expecting that. “what for?”

Slim just shrugs. Stretch is mildly disappointed; though he isn’t sure what he was expecting.  Slim has already spoken a lot for one day. The car starts back up and the two sit in silence once more. Stretch notices Slim’s earbuds dangling loosely around his neck. That’s… weird.

“do you… wanna turn the radio on… or…?” Stretch starts.

Slim doesn’t respond, just looking distant. Stretch stares at him for a while, just trying to figure out what is going on? Why is he acting so weird today?

It isn’t until he sees a glint in the corner of his eye that he realizes they’ve veered off the road.

“ _slim, watch out - watch out!”_

The car jerks suddenly. Tires screech as they turn sharply. Stretch’s head slams back as Slim skids the car through the mud to a halt. Soul raising a mile-a-minute Stretch quickly unbuckles himself to look over at Slim, checking him to make sure that he isn’t hurt.

Slim is fine, other than his erratic breathing.  Stretch has never seen a more rigid posture - every bone in Slims body seems completely locked up His hands are quivering, still locked around the wheel as his eyes stare blankly ahead.

“slim... slim you okay?” Stretch asks, gently resting a hand on Slim’s shoulder. The other jerks violently, swiveling around to look at Stretch with magic lit eyes. At first, it seems like he is upset - angry, but upon closer inspection he’s terrified.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. _i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry._ ”

Stretch watches as Slim devolves into panic, tears welling at his eyes as his hands grip painfully tight around his own arms.  Stretch is completely helpless to do anything but stare as the other skeleton breaks down.

“i shouldn’t have stopped. m’lord told me not to and i knew i shouldn’t’ve but i did it anyways and i dragged you into my mess to. i shouldn’t have done this i shouldn’t have done this im a terrible person oh god i’m sorry i’m sorry…”

“slim,” Stretch cuts in when he can finally get a word in edgewise. “calm down; i’m not mad, okay?” He holds his hands up in surrender, but the other has curled so far in on himself he can’t see the genture. Slowly, Stretch leans forward and gently pulls Slim into a hug. The other just sobs into his chest, continuing to gush more words than Stretch thinks he’s ever said in his life. Though, to be fair, most of them are ‘im sorry’ and ‘i’m terrible’

After a while Slim seems to have calmed down, and Stretch can finally let him go without fear of the other sliding down into the car mat into a pool of self loathing and despair.

Slim sits back up, tucking his knees up to his chest. “...m’lord is gonna kill me when i get back…” Slim says soft enough that Stretch has to strain to hear him. Stretch shakes his head, about to object to the comment before Slim speaks again.  “i was supposed to go to the gym today - he got me a membership and everything and i meant to go but i just lost track of time and-” He cuts himself off with a whimper, head falling into his knees. For a moment, it seems that whatever he was going to say was lost; swallowed up by Slim’s selective muteness… but then, somehow, he finds it in him to start speaking again.

“... sometimes, when i can’t seem to do anything right, there’s this little… voice… in my head.”  Slim pauses, wiping his eyes with a palm. “a-and it won’t leave me alone, nagging me about things i should be doing and telling me how worthless i am and that i should just- just give up because i’m just… i- _incapable_ of doing anything right.”

Stretch watches Slim in disbelief, catching the other’s eyes when he looks up at Stretch. He shrinks under the other’s gaze.

“... you probably think i’m crazy, right?”

Stretch’s eyes lower, his mouth quirking up just a bit as he snorts. He turns to open the car door, getting out so that he can switch seats with Slim.  With Slim resituated into the passenger seat Stretch buckles up and starts the car back up, slowly driving the car back onto the road.

“...nah, i think that’s normal.”  


**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think of my venting angst?


End file.
